


he is my shepherd  (i shall not want)

by writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Anal Fingering, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Animagus, Comeplay, Credence Barebone Crying During Sex, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deepthroating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Original Percival Graves Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, credence is an unregistered accidental animagus, graves shushing, romantic idiots in love, twist - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 06:41:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11458125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: from shivering in the rain, to sitting in front of a roaring fireplace, Credence's circumstances change rapidly. the only problem is, he's scared, and staying in his animagus form.Percival is trying to recover from Grindelwald's capture, and attending regular therapy sessions, but gets a free dose of assistance from a cute little lamb who follows him home one afternoon, and doesn't seem to want to leave his side. like a Shadow.





	he is my shepherd  (i shall not want)

**Author's Note:**

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> _originally inspired by[this art](http://arealtrashact.tumblr.com/post/160236384370/animagi-animagi-newts-animagus-form-is-a) and sort of springing off [my old drabble fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10686126/chapters/24022920)/though this fic is post-canon, and nOT rated G._
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> fun stuff, this is a long delayed gift for the wonderful sorryfreudianslip.  
> you know how amazing you are <3

When Percival crossed the street, ignored the cars passing by, and almost tripped over a black ball of fluff, he knew he was either overpaying for therapy or taking the wrong potion with his whiskey at night. Also, the therapist tended to remain blurry whenever he looked directly at them, hungover or fully sober, which was becoming more and more rare those days.

“Fuck. Sorry.”

Someone’s fucking farm animal had wandered into the city, only to almost die from being stepped on by him or worse, could have been run over. He frowned, but the dark eyes that blinked up at him from beneath unnaturally long lashes got to him, so he did the only thing he could do, knelt down and scooped up the little black lamb into his arms and started walking. Originally intending to set him back down in Central Park or something of the like, he didn’t notice that he’d simply walked home until he was frowning at his own front stoop, the warm bundle in his arms nuzzling against his chest, a wet nose bumping under his chin.

“Well. Here goes nothing.”

It could have all been some huge elaborate trap from Grindelwald, trying to get him back under lock and key, planning to steal his face once more and wreak havoc on the city and MACUSA, while he was off on leave, or it might just be someone’s lost little pet.

Percival took three brisk steps over the threshold and when nothing happened, beyond a gentle tingling and blue glow with a chime that indicated he was welcome and safely through the security charms and wards, he exhaled. The lamb in his arms gave a soft bleat and his hand didn’t quiver for the first time in a long time, as he reached out to open his door, keeping his other hand splayed over the downy underside of the creature’s bottom.

Once inside his apartment, he set the lamb down, and beelined for his liquor cabinet, ignoring the potions winking at him, demanding his attention, prepared for a certain order and time of day to be drank.

“No thanks.”

Scotch, whiskey, or on rare occasions rum was his drug of choice. While the nomajs were drowning in giggle water that was little more than bootlegged moonshine or rubbing alcohol and sugar, he preferred to act like his entire world hadn’t been crumbled to ash and rebuilt with matchsticks and straw.

The lamb had wandered over to the fireplace, with a soft click clack of hooves, and seemed to be content to warm itself in front of it, curling up into a dark cloud of wool. Percival blinked, and then downed the rest of the whiskey in his glass, before mumbling, pointlessly, as of course, the creature wouldn’t be able to understand him.

“What’s it like having a simple life? No wolves out to steal your face, pretend to be you, and end up killing someone important. Hell, I bet you don’t even get scared. You ran away on purpose, didn’t you? Left the boring and dreary countryside for the big city, for adventures. Sorry you’ve gotten stuck with me.”

He flopped down onto the couch, and stared into the fire until his eyes fell shut, and he drooped over, laying almost sideways. He was woken up a scant amount of time later by something wet on his fingers, and he opened his eyes to see the lamb licking him, before pulling back and bleating again. For some reason, he found himself smiling, just slightly, and then holding out his hand proper, palm upward, so the lamb could step forward and get a pat over his head.

“Come here, it’s okay. Sorry I passed out on you.”

He tapped the space in front of him on the couch, just big enough for the little creature to sit, and after a moment of hesitation, wherein the lamb didn’t move, Percival was forced to just scoop him up. It bleated once and then settled in again, like it had been on the ground, so that he could drag a hand over the softness of its back.

It was pretty nice, just having something cute and little to hold. It was nothing like the bullshit psychobabble sort of ‘ _comfort_ ’ he went through at therapy, but Percival kept talking to the lamb, and pretended the occasional blinks of its dark eyes meant they were paying attention.

When night time rolled around, the sunset was pretty enough to distract him from petting the lamb, and he got a wet nose to the hand for his trouble. Percival knew he should probably have some of his potions. But what could he possibly feed the creature? What did lambs eat?

“Are you hungry?”

 _Baa-aa_.

Was that a yes?

Percival checked in his pantry, hoping against hope that maybe he’d have something green. Coming up empty, he went over to the windowsill, glancing in the empty flower bins of his neighbor and in desperation, cast a growing charm to see what might spring forth. To his relief, it was a multi leafed plant, sweet smelling, possibly related to clover. He plucked a few leaves and stems before retreating back to his living room, and turned around to find the lamb right behind him, blinking up at him, head tilted in curiosity.

“This is for you. What do you think?”

He held out a few sprigs, flat on his palm, before sighing. The lamb wasn’t a horse, there was no danger of losing a finger to a small fragile creature, but it did eagerly step forward, and chomp onto the greenery.

The lamb was chewing almost thoughtfully, before it bleated softly, as if asking for more, and Percival couldn’t help smiling again.

“Good? Okay great.”

He summoned the rest of the plant and set in on a dish, before filling a bowl with water, and setting both things down on the floor beside the kitchen counter. He then proceeded to down all his potions and chase them with a bit of scotch. It was a nice change of pace from the whiskey. By the time he staggered into his room to actually change for bed, he didn’t realize the lamb had followed until he was halfway out of his shirt, and reaching for his pajama pants, when a soft clacking sounded in the hallway, and then he looked over to find the creature starting to tug at his blue scarf, which had been draped over the end of the bed with his coat.

“Ah, now, don’t do that. Those aren’t edible.”

 _Baa-aa_. The fabric was clamped firmly in the creature’s mouth.

He might not be able to tell it what to do, but he could certainly remove the temptation. He snapped his fingers and vanished the scarf into his closet, along with the rest of his clothing, so he could just easily tug on his pants.

“See? Don’t argue with me. I always win.”

The lamb blinked over at him, looking a bit chastened, and then click-clacked around to head butt his legs, clearly demanding attention. He fell back onto the bed and sighed. He’d never had a pet before, not even a fish.

“I guess, if you can be quiet and not move around too much, you can stay here.”

He tucked himself under the sheets and blanket, and patted the end of the bed for the lamb to follow, but they just stood there, looking, not really moving.

“Okay. H’up you go.”

A soft bleat and then the lamb was settling comfortably amongst the blankets, chirping happily, snuggling into a round ball of black.

“Okay.”

Percival laid back against the pillows, and doused the lights with a flick of his wrist. He didn’t fall asleep for a long time.

 

When he woke up the next morning, he found a warm weight on his abdomen, and blinked dazedly down to find the lamb curled up atop his stomach, over the blanket, breathing deeply. Lambs didn’t snore, it seemed, even if he might have.

It was rather nice, just laying there, petting over the soft wool, and wondering if he really needed to get up for coffee right that second, or he could just wait, and enjoy that sort of soothing comfort. Therapy couldn’t do that.

After he had dozed off once more, and turned onto the side in his sleep, he realized he’d thrown an arm over the lamb, and was cuddling him like some kind of warm pillow against his chest. A cold nose against the underside of his chin woke him the second time, and he groaned before properly getting up, and staggering off to the shower. He shucked off his sleep pants and stepped under the cool spray, letting it wake him fully before switching it to warm. By the time he got out of the shower and reached for a towel, he was hungry and suspected it was closer to lunchtime than breakfast. He almost tripped over the lamb again when he noticed the creature standing in the doorway, watching him with solemn dark eyes.

“Hey. Ready to go eat? I need some coffee myself.”

As well as a hangover potion. His head pounded severely now that he was standing upright, and the gentle clacking of the lamb’s hooves followed him out to the kitchen, as he had tugged on just a bathrobe. It wasn’t until he was sipping over his coffee, still too hot to drink properly, and watching the lamb munch happily on some of the sweet clover that he felt it hit him.

A wave of sorrow, something dark and gnawing in his stomach, that wouldn’t go away with any amount of potions or alcohol, or even avoiding talking about it.

He’d been tossed into that dark cellar of a prison inside his own office, and only part of him had crawled back out, what he’d lost couldn’t be quantified or named, but it was missing, and he didn’t know how to find it or even repair it.

Tears were stinging his eyes as he stared down into the murky depths of his coffee, and he only just held back from throwing it to the ground, wary of scaring the creature. Instead, he gently pushed it away and let his head fall into his hands, doing his best to remain silent as the grief wracked through his body. It was all wrong, and he couldn’t be angry at anyone but himself. He’d gone up against the greatest threat he imagined any witch or wizard in MACUSA had ever been trained for.

What had he done?

Been summarily defeated.

How could he possibly reconcile that?

Everywhere he went, every time he set foot in MACUSA, he could only wonder why.

Why had no one noticed?

Why had they not cared?

Why?

He heard a soft chirp, through his choked sobs, and looked over with wet eyes to find the lamb watching him, a curious tilt to their head, clacking forward to put their mouth on the free end of his robe tie, not quite chewing, just holding it and tugging slightly, as if trying to comfort him.

“Hey little guy. I suppose I should give you a name if you really want to stick around with a total thrill of a host like me.”

Another chirp, and the lamb seemed to be humming, or just bleating with its mouth clamped shut on the fabric, so he reached down to pet its head, rubbing over its ears.

“What do you think about Shadow? That seems to be what you’re turning into. Following me home, following me around… imagine if you came to therapy with me. Give Simmons a heart attack. Some creature doing better than his contracted ass who doesn’t even take good notes does. Know what he does instead of scribbling words or thoughts about what I say? He just draws tits and lips. He thinks I don’t know the difference between how writing and drawing sounds.”

If he didn’t know better, he’d say the lamb ducked its head away, and then tried to hide its face in the folds of his robe.

Shadow.

It suited the lamb.

Eventually he had to stop feeling sorry for himself and get up, get dressed and try and prepare to be over analyzed once again, but afterwards, he was going to visit the grocery shop and get some proper greenery for Shadow to enjoy.

“Promise not to burn the house down? Or chew up all my slippers and scarves?”

He decided he could sacrifice _one_ scarf, if Shadow insisted on wanting something.

“Is that a yes?”

Shadow bleated and then sort of pranced over to him to bump into his calves, before plopping down on his bottom to blink up at Percival, who felt mildly exasperated by how cute and frustrating it was, having a pet that he knew almost nothing about how to care for.

 

* * *

 

 

There was no doubt left in his mind. The man who looked like Mister Graves, _was_ the real Mister Graves. He didn’t once question Credence or challenge him to be anything other than he thought he was, a harmless creature. Thinking back on the man who the others, the group of witches, had called Grindelwald, but who had pretended to be Mister Graves, Credence couldn’t see how anyone could have been fooled. He’d only had two short conversations with the real Mister Graves before it had gone wrong, and then things had felt different, off, threatening and tinged with menace. The first meeting had been on a cold icy day, and he’d been tripped by a man going into the bank, shoved to the ground, forced to scramble for his fliers, palms splitting open against the roughness of the pavement and blood staining the paper.

Then he’d caught sight of a pale of black leather shoes, and expected the worse, but instead, was helped to his feet, and met with the warm gaze of Mister Graves, along with a voice tinged with concern. He was healed, the skin of his palms knitted back together like they’d never been bleeding, and the man had told him about magic, how he suspected Credence had some in his ancestry and he would help him. He knew in that moment the man before him was a witch, and yet he was not afraid. Never with Mister Graves.

The next meeting was held in a diner, and Mister Graves brought a flower back to life for him, while not quite resisting the urge to check his hands, ensure he wasn’t hurt once again, and promising that above all else, he would learn magic someday.

After that, the meetings changed. Things weren’t promised without return value being demanded. Credence _must_ help him find the child, there _must_ be a reason as to why he was failing.

The instant Mister Graves had hit him, declared him useless and unteachable, he’d thought that oh, _now_ he knew what pain was. No amount of beatings from ma would ever cut so deeply as hearing those words from the man he’d trusted, admired, might have actually felt something _else_ for.

The magic and power had blossomed out of him like a deadly flower coming to life, and he’d not even wanted to control it, or stop it, no matter what pretty lies he was told, even when he saw Miss Tina and a strange red haired man who had attempted to follow him. He just wanted to die. He’d wanted it to end. But instead, he’d suffered more pain and agony, at the hands of other people just like Mister Graves. In the end, the truth had been revealed, all along, that _hadn’t_ been Mister Graves. Someone had stolen his face, dressed just like him, and tricked everyone, not just Credence. He’d crawled away, drifting on the breeze, only to be caught in a downpour when a thunderstorm came out of nowhere, and found himself shivering in an alleyway, just like the places he used to meet Mister Graves, and the fake one too.

He had stared down at his hands, and saw blood mingling with ash on his skin, but no longer were there any wounds. Somehow, despite how much the magic thrown at him had hurt, and he expected to die, he hadn’t. For reasons unknown, God had seen fit to give him a second chance. He’d taken one step and crumpled to the ground, sobbing into the rain, begging to be able to walk, to heal. The usual sense of chaos and rage and confusion that his power brought him did not flare up, and when he next opened his eyes, everything was shorter. He had transformed into what he’d always been told he wasn’t worthy of being.

A lamb, a true child of god walking amongst mortals.

So he walked.

On and on, until he passed by the rubble of the church, and through a silvery veil, he could read a small plaque, announcing that dark magic had been the cause of destruction, and the building could not be repaired without MACUSA authorization.

He didn’t know what that meant, but he moved on.

He wasn’t going back there.

For days he wandered, feeling rather like Moses in the desert, but never did he feel the ache and pain from hunger or thirst, he simply was, and so he traveled further. Past the city blocks he’d known, towards shinier buildings, squat dwellings with fancy lettering on the mailboxes, and expensive cars in the driveways.

He’d not intended to stop at all, not even for the sweet smelling grass that framed the sidewalks, which could tempt him after almost a week of nothing, but what did make him still was the scent of a familiar spicy cologne. Something like fear rippled down his spine, and he could see darkness beginning to envelop his vision, so he ducked behind a car, and peered out to watch the figure walking out of one of the houses, more like a business than a residence he supposed, and the shoes were a touch duller, needing a good polish, and the coat looked a bit shabby, dusty, but the scarf, the haircut, and the face… it was unmistakeable.

Credence leapt into action, and sprinted after the man, rounding the corner to get in front of him at the side of the curb, just enough to nearly trip him. He blinked up at the man when he finally looked down to see what was blocking his way, and was startled to see so much of a difference up close. In fact, when Mister Graves pulled him into his arms, he was almost distracted enough to change back. Only a strong self preservation instinct kept him safe. There were bags under the man’s eyes, and he had a bit of a beard, enough to be considered a shadow. Nestled close to his chest, Credence could smell that the cologne was only from his clothing, as the rest of Mister Graves smelled like alcohol, along with something else he couldn’t define. The scarf was still soft, and he found himself rubbing into it, relaxing in the man’s hold until he stopped walking.

Magic was surrounding them, and then letting go.

He was deemed to be not a threat, and so Mister Graves allowed him inside his home.

The next few hours were the most intimate moments, several peeks into the man’s life, that Credence had never even dreamed he would be privy to. He’d seen him skip a meal, drink himself silly, and fall asleep on the couch, only woken by Credence’s curious proddings. Then Mister Graves had slumped into bed, after completely undressing and redressing into sleep pants, and no, his lamb heart had _not_ skipped a beat at the sight of that. Well, maybe at first. Until he noticed all the scars, and bruises still healing on the man’s body. He’d been urged up onto the bed with him, and barely slept, only finally relenting to his greatest desire, which was to be even closer. He’d considered transforming right then, and just to see what Mister Graves would do, but ruled against it, at the last second, only to be cradled right against the man’s bare chest, as he slept on, and only got up much later, to go into the shower.

Credence followed, because why not? He was rewarded by the sight of Mister Graves naked again, dripping wet, and reluctantly toweling off before telling him to please, not keep eating his scarves. Credence hadn’t even realized he was chewing on them, until he’d been told not to. What else could he possibly do to distract himself?

Breakfast was worse, and better, in a few ways.

The man finally ate a real meal, and had his coffee, while Credence was gifted more of the sweet clover he suspected Mister Graves had grown just for him, and then witnessed something terrible. Mister Graves broke down into tears at the dining room table, right in front of him. That was the moment he _knew_ beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Perhaps the awful man who had pretended to be Mister Graves had fooled everyone around him, and Credence too, but he could not be the same man before him. Every time Mister Graves held him, or touched him and spoke a kind word, he felt like he might understand why he’d been given a second chance.

When the sun set, and he heard telltale footsteps from the front stoop, Credence quickly transformed back into his lamb form, from where he’d been perched inside the man’s bathroom, on the counter, trying on different colognes and scents, which were covered in a thick layer of dust, as if Mister Graves hadn’t been bother to use any of them in a long time.

As he clicked out to the hallway, and stopped right in front of the man, he noticed that he must have gone shopping, his arms were full of paper sacks stuffed to the brim with food.

“Hey there, Shadow. Look what I did, finally something productive. Amazing isn’t it?”

Credence wished he could smile, so instead he did the next best thing and chirped happily, while moving over to tug on the hem of the man’s coat, urging him into the kitchen.

“I suppose this will be the first decent meal I’ve had in awhile. Hope I can remember the charms. Don’t laugh at me if I mess up now, okay?”

Once his hands were free he kneeled down to greet Credence with a pat to the head and a slow smile. Credence hoped he’d made some progress at his therapy session, or at least, tried to.

“I brought you some spinach, and fresh broccoli too. Just in case you want to chew something a bit rougher than leaves. Are you thirsty?”

Now that Credence thought about it, he rather was, so he head butted Mister Graves’ legs, and got a cool crisp serving of water for his efforts. He managed to dunk his whole snout into the dish as he tried to lap it up, and sneezed to make sure it wouldn’t get too far up his nose.

He looked up to find Mister Graves watching him with an amused twinkle in his eyes. He seemed to realize what he was doing and quickly turned away, returning to his food preparations, twirling his wand and mumbling under his breath.

Credence clicked away and went to sit in front of the fireplace, content to wait for his own dinner until the man was ready to eat. It didn’t take him long, and though he might have been out of practice, the meal he’d thrown together was enough to severely tempt Credence into changing back just to be able to try it over the greenery. As he sat and watched the man eat, drinking water himself along with his meal, Credence couldn’t help but picture them together, sharing the table, the space, living comfortably. If it was even possible.

He didn’t know how Mister Graves had felt about him, he’d not been able to ask, he’d seen no indication he was anything else other than a pet project, a happy coincidence that the somewhat well to do man didn’t buy other young people a lunch, and promise to help them learn magic. Maybe Credence wasn’t special at all, and he’d just been in the right place at the right time.

“You know, I don’t think I made progress today with Simmons, but when I’m not on that blasted couch, I do feel better. You’re a damned good listener, Shadow. I couldn’t tell him about why I’m so guilty, but I could tell you. You won’t judge me for being a fucking idiot. For developing feelings that Grindelwald managed to use against me. Will you?”

Credence bleated around his mouthful of clover, before swallowing and blinking over at Mister Graves, trying desperately to indicate he was listening, he was present.

Mister Graves set his fork down and put a hand to his forehead, pressing his fingers into his temple, and sighing heavily.

“I let him take memories, meant to be meaningless, of course he saw right through me. Lying has never been my strong suit. I tried to make him think the boy wasn’t important. Was just a nomaj. He called him a squib. I guess that’s what the Europeans call people born without magic by accidental relations between nomajs and wizarding kind. But Credence was different. He was special.”

Credence sat very, very still, and waited for Mister Graves to continue. He couldn’t scarcely believe it, was he saying what it sounded like?

“I just… I hate thinking about him going anywhere _near_ Credence. Everything that man touches turned to ash, I mean, look at me. If he’d gotten his grimy hands on that poor boy, knew what kind of power he’d really had...why, Credence would have been helpless, he would have had no choice but to become a pawn in that monster’s plans. I guess it’s better that he didn’t make it. At least now, no one can hurt him.”

To Credence’s horror, it sounded rather like Mister Graves was on the verge of tears again, all because of _him_ ! He wanted nothing more to pop back into himself, and promise that nothing like that would ever happen, he still existed, he cared, he _yearned_ for them to have a second chance at things. But the man merely inhaled a slow breath, and then took up his fork again, finishing his dinner in a somber silence, draining his glass, and then sending all his dishes to the sink.

He walked out of the kitchen without looking back, and Credence almost jumped, realizing of course, the man expected him to follow, so he did, clacking along, bleating softly and chirping when that didn’t get any attention. Mister Graves was undoing his vest and shirt, and had already tossed his scarf onto the bed, so Credence made a resounding leap and landed over it, snuggling down into the silky fabric, blinking over at the man as he finished changing out of his nice clothes, intent on getting into his pajamas. Instead, Mister Graves merely spared him a glance, and then shook his head, crawling into the sheets and under the blanket. Credence could hardly think straight. Mister Graves was going to bed _naked_? What better opportunity would he get? The only thing that he considered would be how badly it would shock and surprise the man to find him there upon waking, but all he could hope for was, after the recent revelations, that he would be glad for it.

“Come here, please.”

Credence bleated once and gladly relinquished the warmth of the scarf for Mister Graves’ strong arms, nuzzling close, enjoying how the man seemed to choke on a laugh when his nose bumped wetly against his shoulder.

“You’re the best damned thing to happen in a long time. You know that, Shadow?”

Credence didn’t want to unnerve him by nodding, so he settled for a cheek rub over the man’s warm skin, and nestled in close, feeling as his heartbeat slowed, and his breathing became deeper. When he moved in the midst of sleeping, Credence was shifted to the side, off of his chest, that was the moment he sprung into action, carefully slipped behind Mister Graves’ back, ensuring there was a decent amount of space between them, before transforming back. He never changed into his normal form with clothing on, so at least now they were on even footing, so to speak. Credence gently put an arm over the man’s side, and cuddled up to his back atop the sheets, so they were separated by that, to prevent him from grinding against him, should the urge arise while dreaming.

He pressed a dry kiss to Mister Graves’ shoulder, and then rested his cheek against the man’s pillow. He fell asleep shortly thereafter, and couldn’t remember having slept so well.

 

* * *

 

 

Percival stirred in the middle of the night, feeling as if he was overheating, and he tried to kick away a sheet, shove back the blanket, _anything_ but continue to try and lay beneath such stifling warmth. Instead of moving away from the small woolen bundle that was the black lamb, he looked down to find a most _decidedly_ human arm braced at his middle, and knobbly knees tucked behind his legs.

He remained very still, and held his breath for a good few seconds, opening his eyes all the way, and murmuring a quiet _lumos_ . A ball of light flickered into existence to hover above the bed, not quite as bright as the lamp might have been if switched on, and Percival gently extracted himself from the embrace so that he could get a good look at exactly _who_ was trying to snuggle against him.

A lovely face framed by shaggy dark hair, with long lashes resting over high cheekbones, and finished off with lips so pink they might have been stained from eating strawberries. His heart stopped beating for a good handful of seconds, so he thought, distractedly, while doing his best _not_ to stare at the miles and miles of exposed pale skin, due to the fact that the boy was sleeping on top of the covers, almost like Shadow liked to do…

Shadow.

The mysterious black wool cloud that had followed him home.

It _was_ Credence. There was no mistaking it. He looked a lot less fragile, like he might blow away with a stiff breeze, and seemed almost free of scars, judging by his exposed shoulders and back, along with his hands, palms extended, reaching for him even while still asleep.

“My beautiful boy… I should have known heaven wouldn’t keep an angel like you away for long.”  
He couldn’t help putting a hand to the boy’s cheek, caressing his soft skin, and if his hand trembled a little, it was merely from nerves. So many things were running through his mind, wonderments about how or why, and did he even deserve such a glorious creature, right there, in his bed?

When Credence’s dark liquid eyes blinked open, he smiled, feeling tears sting at the corners and start to blur his vision, long before the boy could even utter a single word.

“Mister Graves? Are you alright?”

“I am now.”

He didn’t even think, he just leaned down and closed the gap between them, capturing those plush lips beneath his own in a kiss that he prayed held a fraction of the relief and adoration he felt for the boy in it. Credence gasped and parted his mouth at the same time as Percival felt one of the boy’s hands slide across his waist, pulling them flush together once more, and he laid back, letting the boy chase after him. Only for him to end up halfway atop Percival, with Credence’s body a warm and slight weight that he decided was grounding, and not nearly enough at the same time.

“Mister Graves, I was so glad to see you, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner-”

“Shh-hh, my boy, it’s perfectly fine. I suspect, I might not have handled it so gracefully. If this could be called that.”

Credence’s hips rolled gently against his, and his breath caught in his chest,

“I just want you to feel good. I hated seeing you cry. Especially because of me.”

“Oh dear boy, no. It was _for_ you. I thought I had lost you.”

“I’m here now. You have me. As long as you want me.”

Percival blinked back the tears threatening to fall, and simply wrapped his arms around Credence’s slender bare back, holding him tightly, and rolling them over so he could stare down at him in breathless astonishment.

“There is so much I want to tell you, so much I want to ask. But most of all, will you be mine?”

Instead of a singular word answer, Credence surged up to kiss him, and his hips thrust up minutely under his own, making him gasp, and shudder as a long forgotten yet familiar spear of arousal darted down his spine. Their positions were rather compromised, both naked, both in his bed, separated by only a thin sheet and threadbare blanket. Mercy lewis, he wanted nothing more than to make Credence writhe with pleasure beneath him, even after their first meeting, the desire and idea of it had come to him, unbidden at night, in the form of dreams he had hoped against hope were visions of the future. Now at long last, it seemed his dreams were about to come true.

“Touch me, Mister Graves.”

“None of that now. Call me Percival.”

“Yes, please, Percival.”

He breathed out a curse, and then leaned back in for a kiss, all the while aimlessly thrusting closer, in between the boy’s spread legs, heat coiling in his abdomen, his cock thickening with every passing second.

He broke away from Credence’s now kiss reddened lips and dragged his mouth down the line of his jaw, to suckle and leave a mark on his neck, before reaching down, to palm over the boy’s own hardening length.

“Oh god, oh my-!”

He felt Credence’s jaw drop as he nuzzled against his cheek, and cupped his fingers around the outline of the boy’s cock, trying to urge him without a word, to let him know it was okay, he’d catch him once he fell past the edge.

“Percival, please, wait, I want to see you.”

Hands that had been fumbling at his sides, gripping against his bare skin, now tentatively squeezed over his ass, making him chuckle. Then one hand slid between their bodies, and very the second Credence’s fingers wrapped around Percival’s own throbbing cock, it was his turn to let out an inhuman noise, a strangled groan as he felt the boy’s thumb rub over the slick head, and jerk purposefully.

“My boy, you’re going to ruin me.”

“Is that good?”

He laughed, sounding a bit strained to his own ears, while gently thrusting harder into the boy’s curled fist,

“Yes, I think so actually… fuck.”

His hips stilled as he lost control, spilling onto Credence’s stomach and making a mess of the sheets, as the boy’s hand remained over him, stroking him through his orgasm, until it was too much, too sensitive and painful and wonderful to continue. He shivered and pulled away, shifting backwards, dragging the sheet down and out of the way as he went, knees feeling like jelly. He was grateful to already be nearly laying down, as it would make his next task much easier. Credence sat up slightly, and frowned in confusion as he began to trail kisses over the boy’s skin, cleaning him easily with his tongue, rather than resorting to a spell. He could feel the boy’s muscles jump, and his thighs quivered as Percival’s hands nudged them apart, and kept them that way, so that he could properly nestle between them, and lick over the final drop of white on the boy’s stomach.

“Percival… are you going to-?”

“I’d like nothing more.”

He managed to beam up at the boy before daring to put his mouth on his cock, newly revealed from under the sheet, but far more impressive than he’d ever imagined in his not so innocent dreams. Credence seemed to be trying to resist touching him, so Percival snagged one of the hands fisting the sheets beside his hips, and then guided it into his hair, which the boy’s fingers instantly carded through. He learned fast.

“Good boy.”

He murmured against the silky skin of the boy’s sack, pushing his legs up and open a bit wider, so that he could kiss down the seam, and lick his way back up. It had been a very long time since he’d done anything like that, but he suspected that Credence, being new to it all would hopefully not be able to tell how nervous he was.

While massaging Credence’s inner thighs, Percival leaned down to take the boy’s cock into his mouth, and swallowed around it, while flicking his tongue against the underside. It would be enough to drive him wild, and indeed, just thinking about Credence doing that to _him_ was getting him on the way back to being hard. The hand in his hair tightened and Credence let out a beautiful breathy moan, hips trying to thrust up, but held fast by Percival’s firm grasp.

He lowered down and took the boy’s cock so deep that his nose was tickled by the dark curls at the root of it, and when he swallowed that time, Credence let out a whimper that shot straight to his own cock.

“P-Percival… please… I’m gonna-”

He hummed, and sucked harder, pulling back until the boy’s cock was only halfway down his throat, and he could taste every drop of salty pre. Credence’s back arched off the bed with the force of his climax, and warmth filled Percival’s mouth, as he swallowed over and over again, he decided he’d never get tired of seeing his boy like that. _His_ boy.

A sharp shock of possessiveness welled up inside him, and when he let the boy’s softening cock slip out of his mouth, he finally let go of his legs to crawl back up the length of his body, and kiss him fiercely. Percival was content to just lie there like that for a bit longer, bracketing the boy underneath him, pinning him to the bed until his strength returned, but Credence seemed to have a different idea, shifting slightly, arms wrapped around his shoulders, clinging to him.

“Can we…”

“What is it, my boy?”

Credence bit his lip, seemingly considering something, and Percival took the chance to stare, to drink in the sight of the boy post climax, not quite glowing, but almost. He was heart breakingly beautiful.

“Could you-”

He broke off again, and Percival wanted to smile at him, to let him know whatever he wanted to ask for, if it was within his power, he’d do it gladly. Even as he heard the early birds beginning to chirp, he wasn’t tired yet, despite the late, or early hour. It was almost as if... now that Credence was there, Percival never wanted to sleep again, not if it meant he had to stop touching the boy, to only be able to hold him close.

“We can do anything you want.”

“I want to feel you inside me.”

Percival’s heart definitely skipped a beat, maybe even two at those decidedly sinful words leaving Credence’s mouth, swollen from kisses and looking in need of more.

“Y-you do?”

Credence nodded slowly, dazedly, and Percival exhaled slowly, his own cock returning rapidly to full hardness at such a confession.

“Well, I can’t just do it. I need to prepare you a little. Work up to it.”

“How?”

Percival felt a shiver run down his spine, and he smiled against Credence’s lips, pecking once before leaning up on his elbows,

“Usually fingers help. Maybe a little kissing too.”

Credence’s dark eyes widened, and a pink flush rose in his cheeks,

“Oh… really?”

His voice was a squeak, and Percival felt himself in danger of blushing,

“Yes. Would you like me to show you?”

Credence just hummed, and Percival grinned back, before kissing him soundly, and reaching back down between his legs, fingers trailing past his softened cock and delicate skin of his sack to below, rubbing his thumb gently over the puckered hole. He could feel Credence twitch and try to relax into the touch, before starting to squirm again, silently trying to beg for something.

“Okay?”

“Yes… it feels strange, but good. Please don’t stop.”

“I’m going to add something to help press inside.”

Percival knew the charm like breathing, even though he’d only had a few times he needed it, and when cool wetness covered his fingers, he removed his thumb to trace his forefinger over the boy’s hole instead, watching how it made him shiver.

“Better?”

He put his other hand on the boy’s cock, stroking his palm down, grinding the heel over it right over the now slippery head, watching how Credence began to shift, to thrust up, needing more. That was when he pressed in a fingertip, and eyed how the pink glistening muscle fluttered, trying to pull it in deeper, so he let it, and added a second, slower, but with constant pushing. Prodding and dipping around, searching for the spot that would bring his boy off in a heartbeat. Credence let out a moan as he tightened his fingers around the boy’s cock, and curled the ones inside him. Percival saw the boy’s hands clenching the sheets, and his feet scrabbled for purchase, so he leaned down to whisper,

“Are you close?”

The reply he got wasn’t very articulate, but instead, he felt Credence thrust up once more, so he let go of the boy’s cock to reach down and grasp his own, murmuring another time for slick.

“Do you want me to make you come now, or after I’m inside you?”

He nudged a third finger in beside the first two, and Credence ground his hips down, reaching up to grip his shoulders, while his knees bent, trying to brace against his sides.

“Please… inside me.”

* * *

 

 

Credence could feel his entire body trembling from the sharp shock as Mister Graves withdrew his hand, only to be able to lean in close, and kiss him, so his eyes could fall shut, and he could savor it all, every touch, every inch of skin to skin contact. The blunt and hot press of the man’s cock at his virgin entrance wasn’t what made him quake and shudder, but it was the mere idea of it, that they could become one, like that, that Mister Graves was about to _fuck_ him, and make love to him, even if they weren’t anything like lovers. Not at all.

But god, when the man had looked down at him as he woke, Credence had never felt more beautiful in his entire wretched life. Mister Graves had then kissed him, put his mouth all over his body and made his every nerve sing with delight, swallowed him down like communion, and still he wanted, he _ached_ for more, and was being gifted it. Mister Graves slowly eased in, and Credence pressed back, trying to take him deeper, rewarded with a gasp from the man, who leaned his head against his own, whispering against his cheek,

“You’re so tight…”

“Please, I need more…”

“My boy, I don’t want to hurt you…”

“I can take it.”

The second he was able, Credence lifted his legs to wrap around Mister Graves’ waist, urging him deeper, and arching his back again, to give himself more leverage, adoring the way it made the man’s breathing catch, and his arms weaken, almost collapsing into him, lips pressed to his shoulder.

“Yes, yes…”

His cock was twitching, trapped between their stomachs, and dripping onto his skin, as he felt the head of Mister Graves’ cock brush up against _some_ thing inside him that made white sparks burst in front of his eyes, and it wasn’t from _his_ magic, so it had to be something else entirely.

His ankles locked behind the man’s back, and he held him there, like that while he rode out his orgasm, clenching tight around the man’s cock buried deep, until he felt warmth bloom inside him, and Mister Graves cried out, before applying his lips to Credence’s skin, biting and sucking hard, marking him as _his_.

“Credence, my boy, I need to move, I’ve made a mess of you.”

He hummed and only hugged tighter, arms braced around the man’s neck and shoulders,

“Not yet, please. You feel so good over me. I’ve never felt so safe.”

“Dear heart, I appreciate that. But I need to-”

“Please… stay.”

Mister Graves mumbled something, and relaxed over him again, not able to withdraw, so he remained. Credence could feel wetness trickling out of his hole, between his thighs, seeping into the sheets beneath them, but when _more_ filled him again, he startled, and tried to pull back and away.

“What’s that?”

Mister Graves shook his head, looking as if he wanted to smile, but was far too embarrassed to manage one.

“ _Baby,_ I tried to warn you.”

Oh.

God.

Something inside him clenched at the easy affection in the man’s voice, and even though he’d actually done _that_ , instead of feeling repulsed, he merely felt possessed.

He was Mister Graves’ alone, and it was bliss. There was no time for disgust, with the man’s final bit of strength, he heaved away from Credence’s body, and dragged a hand down his naked sweaty come covered chest and stomach, leaving dry clean skin in his wake, including between his legs.

Percival snored gently a moment later, right beside Credence’s ear, and his face split into a grin. He was giddily happy, he turned over to press a kiss to the man’s forehead, and snuggled against his side, letting exhaustion creep over his consciousness.

* * *

 

**END**

  



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